


So the Storm Passed and the Land Rejoiced

by catalysticskies



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2060157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catalysticskies/pseuds/catalysticskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allen is mostly indifferent when he gets sent on a mission with Kanda, but he soon gets stuck with a lot more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So the Storm Passed and the Land Rejoiced

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short drabble between various projects.

Allen is mostly indifferent when he finds out he's been put on a mission with Kanda; he's worked with the man before, and while he always manages to strike a particular chord whenever they're in the same room, Allen has learnt that it's generally easier when on business to just swallow his words and focus on the job. They're sent out to Norway this time, on rumours of strange monsters wandering the hills and breaking into houses at night. There doesn't seem to be any word of Innocence, but it certainly sounds like there are at least a few akuma there, so they head out early the next morning, catching the ferry across the English Channel to France and making their way north from there, catching another boat from Denmark. Little is said throughout the whole trip, as is usually the case whenever Allen and Kanda get stuck together, Allen having been made painfully aware that trying to hold decent conversation with him is ill-advised.

They get to the town without any real problems, stepping off the train into snow several inches deep and still falling, the early afternoon sky grey and ominous above them. Allen shudders, then follows after Kanda, finding an inn to work from before setting out and questioning the locals. They split up, taking different sides of town to ask about the alleged 'monster' sightings, gathering as much information as they can about them before they go trekking over the hills to find them. They regroup back at the inn as night falls, sharing their knowledge over dinner; they apparently stick close to an area two hours' walk west of town during the day, moving east at night to make a few kills in town before leaving again. At least four of them, all supposedly level two, or (if they are particularly unlucky) level three.

They decide to wait until daybreak to make their move, when they could track the akuma out to wherever they hole themselves up for a surprise attack. There isn't any word on them making an attack during the night, but as they set out to leave the next morning the innkeeper tells them that there were at least two more deaths, and Allen feels bad for not being there to prevent it. Kanda presses onwards, and they begin their trek across the hills, the snow even thicker than when they arrived now that they're out of town. There isn't any snow falling now, but there are clouds on the distant horizon that Allen feels he should keep an eye on. He decides he rather dislikes Norway; it's freezing, much colder than it usually gets in London, and even his exorcist's coat does little against the bite of the wind.

They head due west for a little over two hours, as their intel had dictated, but they find nothing, empty hills the same as they had been traipsing over all day. They continue walking, taking to scouting the area in a wide radius in case they missed something or strayed off course, taking them nearly another hour before Allen's eye reacts and he points them in a general direction, then Kanda spots something, telling Allen to keep low and keep quiet. He follows Kanda's gaze down the hill to the group of akuma nestled amongst a small thicket at the bottom.

“We'd have to skirt around until we're downhill of them,” Allen says, watching them closely. “They'd see us coming from a mile away up here.”

Kanda scoffs, drawing his sword with barely a sound. “They're too stupid to run. They'll come right at us, and here we have the upper ground.” He barely waits for Allen to agree before leaping forwards, utilising the snow to slide down the hill as he activates his Innocence, and Allen is close behind, his arm morphing and twisting as he feels the power running through it. The akuma spot them nearly straight away, and there's a burst of snow around them before they launch themselves towards the exorcists, screaming at them.

There are seven of them, all level two, which between them shouldn't be too much of a problem. It's not easy, but fights with larger groups never are, or at this level. Kanda handles the larger half, leaving Allen with three of them to take care of, so he focuses on those, aiming his shots and ducking around theirs. It's difficult to manoeuvre with trees placed so intermittently but close enough to be a nuisance, but he's worked in worse before, in dense woods and small buildings and cramped back alleys. It doesn't take too long to dispatch them, Allen shielding his eyes as the last of them explodes, turning to face Kanda as he leaps towards the last one standing, cornered against the tree, cutting it in a single, clean arc. He almost lets himself breathe a sigh of relief as it bursts, but something isn't right; he can still feel one, his eye is still active. He readies his weapon, figuring it must be beneath the snow, but the locator on his eye isn't working well enough, the akuma either moving too fast or erratically for it to give him a decent reading.

“Behind you!” Kanda yells, but it's too late; he doesn't have enough time to turn, to swing, to block the attack, and the akuma's blade gets thrust into his stomach. His mouth fills with blood, and it laughs, ringing in his ears and blind in its glee, giving Kanda a clear shot. He pushes it away as it explodes, glancing around for any others before crouching down next to Allen, collapsed on the floor with his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, coughing blood out onto the snow. “How bad is it?” he asks, sheathing his sword to free both hands.

Allen gasps through grit teeth, his eyes clamped shut. “I-- I can't--” he tries, but doesn't get any further, blood spilling from his mouth instead of words. Kanda curses profoundly under his breath; he's bleeding an awful lot, and to be so incapacitated must mean it's pretty bloody bad. Kanda fishes around in his jacket for the emergency kit, pulling it out and setting it aside. He takes Allen by the shoulders, pulling his hands away from the wound so that he can get a look at it, assess the damage. It's not that wide, but it's deep, too deep. Kanda sends a silent prayer to whatever strength the kid pulls from to fuel his knack for survival.

He bandages the wound as quickly and securely as he can, telling the kid to stay awake, he can't fall asleep. Allen doesn't reply, but he nods when Kanda presses it, his eyes growing hazy and his breathing worryingly erratic. There's no way he can walk like this, so Kanda curses his bad luck and hefts the kid onto his back, keeping hold on him as he begins the long walk back. He makes sure Allen stays conscious, getting him to talk every so often to ensure him of the fact. “The storm,” he says once, after Kanda asks if he's still awake, and his gaze falls to the clouds north of them, dark grey and hanging low over the hills. It will hit them in a few hours, if they're lucky.

He keeps pressing, the sun dipping lower in the sky and the clouds rolling close enough that he begins to worry about them. They'll be caught in it soon, and while it would be bearable under normal conditions, Allen wouldn't be able to handle it, and Kanda is already exhausted having carried him this far. “North-east,” Allen says suddenly, just as the winds begin to pick up and blow wefts of loose snow across the hills like ghosts. “There was... a building. Maybe twenty minutes.”

He understands the meaning and sets off in that direction, hoping to God that the kid is right. It takes a little longer than Allen had guessed, but he eventually spots a squat little building between the sparse trees just as the sky burns pink and the wind is harsh enough to howl; an old logging cabin, by the looks of it, and as he opens the door and steps in he finds it's been deserted for at least a few years. It's still surprisingly intact, and Kanda silently commends whoever built it as he cautiously sets Allen down, a small groan escaping his lips as he leans back against the wall, resting a hand over the wound.

Kanda settles himself down in the adjacent corner, resigning himself to what is bound to be an extremely long night. The wind rattles the walls and whistles obnoxiously in his head, and he tries instead to focus on heavy sounds of Allen's breathing, making sure it's still there. He would meditate, to take his mind off of it all and try to make it a little more bearable, but if something were to happen to Allen while he was spacing out, he'd never hear the end of it.

“Kanda,” he croaks after a time, taking a deep, shuddering breath in. He doesn't get an answer. “Kanda, I-- I don't think I can survive this.”

That catches his attention, his head swivelling up so that his eyes meet Allen's. “Don't be stupid,” he says, but his eyes narrow. He's dubious, too.

“Really. I'm pretty sure some of my organs are pierced, it... It's too deep.” Kanda doesn't doubt that; the wound is still oozing blood, rising in Allen's throat whenever he does anything more than breathe, his face wet with sweat even in these temperatures. He won't survive, at this rate. Allen laughs, breathy and weak, breaking to a cough at the end. “It's funny,” he murmurs, barely audible over the wind, “I always thought I'd... die in some big battle, you know? Not-- Not here. Here is nothing. I was unlucky, I wasn't... _careful_ enough.”

“Stop talking,” Kanda tells him, in part because he's agitating his wound and wasting energy, and in part because he doesn't want to hear the defeated tone in his words. Allen sighs, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall, mouthing something Kanda can't quite make out. It scares him a little, watching the kid's limp form. The only way to tell he's still alive is the short gasps of breath making his chest rise and fall; Kanda watches him closely in case it stops.

He doesn't know what he'll do if (when?) they do. Allen has always had such a knack for staying alive, even when the odds were stacked innumerably against him. He wonders what those back at the Order would think. Lenalee, for one, would never forgive him. It would break her, and, in turn, her pain would break Komui. Most of the science team would hate him. Would Lavi care? It's always so hard to tell with Bookmen. He shouldn't, but Lavi was different. Kanda couldn't face them with that hanging over his head, scorn into his soul.

He knows what he needs to do, but it makes him feel sick. Does he really want to bleed for this kid? For Allen Walker, who gets on all of his nerves on a good day and constantly fights with him? For Allen Walker, who is cursed and selfless and constantly striving to be stronger, to live and protect, who is pale and wan and entirely too careful even around those he fights for? For Allen, who is all that has held their gross pseudo-family together ever since he rocked up at the Order's doors, who has saved his life more than once?

He stands, picking his way across the dark room to the corner Allen had collapsed in, kneeling down beside him. He looks even worse this close, and Kanda tries not to think too hard about it. Allen's eyes slide open as Kanda pulls off his glove and rolls up his sleeve, the silver mists of his irises glassy and distant. “Kanda?” he whispers, confused. Kanda refuses to meet his eyes.

“Shush,” he tells him gently, “Don't talk.” Allen complies, whether by choice or lack of energy he doesn't know, and opts for watching Kanda work. He hisses in pain as Kanda moves his hand away from his abdomen, and the older man shushes him again as he inspects it, squinting in the darkness. Allen wasn't wrong; even dressed to the best of their abilities it had continued bleeding fairly profusely, his whole lower half stained red. “I'm going to remove the dressing,” he says to Allen, figuring he should at least say something before he goes poking at it. “It's going to hurt a little, but bear with me for a minute here.”

Allen makes a small noise deep in his throat, eyes closed, but makes no other move, so he takes that as consent and grabs his sword. It's faster just to cut the bandages off rather than unwrap the whole thing. He pulls Allen's jacket open, finding a space furthest from the wound to insert his sword between skin and cloth and slide the blade upwards, very gently, until he'd made a haphazard cut through the layers of bandage. Now comes the painful part, he thinks, and silently apologises as he carefully pulls them back to reveal the wound, the blood that had dried around it making it stick to his skin. Allen gasps, a low groan escaping his throat as he tries his best not to cringe and make it worse. He's left gasping afterwards, and Kanda wonders how he's even managed to stay conscious. He admires his perseverance.

He's agitated the wound in the process, though, and he grimaces at the sight of it. He's had worse himself, but he's never had the gall to examine them so closely before. He's going to need a little more blood than he can get out with his teeth, so he grabs for his sword again, bringing the blade to his wrist and making a small, clean cut, setting the blade aside as he holds it over the wound, letting his own blood drip down and mix with Allen's. He puts his spare hand gently on Allen's shoulder as he cringes, unused to the feel of a wound so rapidly healing, until he calms down.

He blearily opens his eyes, looking down at his blood-soaked body, raising the hand he'd been holding over the wound -his left one, Kanda notices with irony- then looks up at Kanda, eyes somehow still wide with wonder even with how drowsy he is. “Thank you,” he breathes, smiling, and Kanda looks away before he can feel any worse looking into those eyes.

“Don't mention it,” Kanda says, shifting around to sit against the wall next to him. He inspects his wrist; the scar has already healed, leaving only a thin raised line that will soon disappear. “I only healed the worst of it, you're still injured, so don't do anything stupid.”

He huffs a laugh, wheezy and soft, but at least it doesn't quite sound like the defeated laugh he'd used before. It's quiet for a long time, the wind continuing to howl outside. Kanda notices that there's a breeze on this side of the room, and he figures there must be a few cracks in the walls after all. “It's...” Allen begins quietly, and Kanda looks down at him, frowns at the distant look on his face. “It's kind of cold out here, huh?”

“We're in Norway,” Kanda states simply, “In December.” Allen pulls a face, shifting slightly into a more comfortable position now that he can move without fear of his insides falling apart. Now that his wound isn't giving him so much of a hot flush, he must actually be feeling the brunt of the snowstorm outside. Kanda hates how he looks, this small man who usually stands so tall and defiant even in the worst of times, huddled in the corner of some beat down old shed covered in his own blood, his skin nearly as pale as his hair and his lips an unnatural colour. His eyes keep drifting closed, but he's forcing himself to stay awake, for some reason. “You can sleep, you know,” Kanda tells him.

“And leave you on your own? What if akuma show up?”

Kanda snorts. “What are you going to do, Mr. 'oh no I'm going to die in this crappy little shack in the middle of nowhere'? You can barely even form a sentence.”

Allen huffs a little, but doesn't say anything else, lapsing into a brief silence. “Are you cold?”

He's bloody well freezing, but he's not going to concede that. “Not really.”

“Liar.” Kanda doesn't have anything to say to that, so he keeps his mouth shut. “I'm sorry,” Allen sighs, watching his breath mist in front of him. “You probably would have been able to make it back to town, if I hadn't...”

“Shut up,” he mutters when Allen trails off, ignoring the look he gets. “Neither of us saw that one coming, stop thinking it's your fault.”

“You saw it. I didn't react fast enough.”

Kanda sighs, staring up at the ceiling. “Why don't we put off the blame game until we're not somewhere that sucks and you don't have a hole in your stomach?” he suggests, and Allen murmurs an agreement. It's quiet for a time, and Kanda figures he must have fallen asleep, but when he glances over he sees Allen staring blankly at the wall opposite from them, eyes half-lidded and pale lips slightly parted. He's halfway there, at least. “Go to sleep, brat, you'll heal faster.”

“But--”

“I can deal with akuma on my own if they show up, I'm not incompetent.” Allen murmurs something he doesn't catch, but he takes it that it isn't important. He watches as Allen's eyes reluctantly slide closed, his body finally relaxing a little. The kid is exhausted, and it's a wonder he even stayed awake as long as he did. Kanda could really do with a nap, too, and while he's sure that no akuma will bother trying to get them out here, he feels like he owes it to the guy to at least keep watch.

He jumps a little as a weight falls on his shoulder, opening his mouth to curse at him, but then he stops himself, looking down at the mess of dirty white hair that had collapsed to lean against him. He considers moving, then sighs, berating himself as he shifts a little closer and moves his arm up around Allen's shoulders to make it more comfortable for both of them. Allen is warm against his side, his breaths not quite normal but much more even than they had been. The urge to just fall asleep and stay like this is far greater than Kanda would like to acknowledge, but he's sure he can pass it off as the onset of hypothermia and exhaustion rattling his mind. He's glad that Allen is out cold for this, or he'd never hear the end of it.

Allen sleeps through the night with hardly any movement, curled up in Kanda's side and only waking when Kanda forces him too, after day has broken and the storm has passed and they can finally get back to town. Allen's wound has somewhat sealed itself, still at risk of being reopened if he pushes it but healed enough that he isn't at risk of dying any second, which is bloody well good enough. He insists that he can walk on his own, which Kanda is dubious about, but the snow is thick from the fall overnight and he doesn't have enough energy, and it isn't long before he stops and says he just needs a little break, holding his side as he leans back against a tree to try and get his breath back. He tells Kanda to go on ahead, that he'll catch up, but while Kanda does turn his head back eastward, as if considering, he stays put and waits until Allen is ready to move again.

It's a welcome sight when they finally get back to town, dragging themselves weary and sick of it all back to their room at the inn. Allen very nearly collapses entirely, after Kanda needs to help him up the stairs, slumping down on one of the beds and only barely remembering to ask if it was alright for him to crash. Kanda simply tells him to do what he wants, he doesn't care, and the kid is asleep by the time he turns around and walks out again. He makes his report to headquarters, grabs something to eat from a store in town (and remembers to buy extra for Allen, he doesn't want to deal with the guy complaining once he's conscious) and returns to the inn, taking what he deems a well-earned bath before returning to their room and falling asleep himself.

They stay there for a few more days, in part as a fail-safe in case they missed any akuma that decide to show up back in town, but mostly to give Allen time to recover before they begin the trip back. Much to both of their chagrin, Allen develops a nasty illness on top of it all, most likely from having been out in the cold while mortally wounded for two days. Kanda is reminded of how glad he is that he doesn't get sick as he is forced to deal with Allen sick and feverish and barely able to stand most of the time, and after what feels like an age Allen is finally well enough to travel without being a burden one hundred percent of the time. They have to stop once at a town in Belgium, when his illness spikes and brings about a day or so of the violent upheaval of his bodily fluids, and then they move out again, finally making it back to England, and the sight of the dreary halls of the Order is a welcome one.

Lavi is the first to greet them, spotting them in the halls on his way past. “Allen, Yuu, you're back!” he exclaims, stepping over to speak to them properly, and he grins at the sight of Kanda's arms around Allen. “Are you two buddies now?” he then asks teasingly, but pauses when he gets a good look at Allen, his perpetual grin faltering a little. “Al, buddy, you don't look so good.”

“The brat has a fever,” Kanda explains lowly, having put up with enough mess already. He doesn't need Lavi's exuberant attitude in his face on top of this. “And a stab wound.”

“I'm alright,” Allen murmurs, shifting to stand up a little straighter. “I can make it to my room from here.”

Kanda snorts. “Last time you tried that, you nearly fell into the canal. I'm taking you to the infirmary.”

“No,” Allen whines as they begin walking again, Lavi falling into step next to them. “The nurse is going to kill me.”

“Good, you deserve it.”

“I hate you. I really... really hate you.”

“Shut up, you're wearing yourself out.”

Allen huffs, but stays quiet, focusing a little harder than he should need to on staying upright. “You guys are totally buddies,” Lavi says, and Kanda whirls on him.

“If my hands were free, you would be dead,” he hisses, and Lavi holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I'm gonna go let Komui know you're back, don't kill each other in the meantime. I'm gonna come bring you some flowers later, alright Al?”

“Lavi, please,” Allen sighs, but he smiles a little, and Lavi ruffles his hair before striding off, presumably to Komui's office. It's quiet for a while, Allen trying to ignore the headache pounding in his mind as they get closer to the infirmary. “Kanda,” he begins, pauses, thinks about it. “I don't know if I've said this already, but... Thank you. You know, for everything.”

He doesn't get a response for a while, but then Kanda scoffs, readjusting his hold on Allen. “Just don't do it again,” he mumbles, and Allen smiles.

 


End file.
